Peerless Beauty – Chapter 113
by Little PandaEarrings
Wanna visit your place again
A long night, a night of emotional ups and downs.
Silence surrounded her as Lu Yinxi lay in bed, resting her head on her arm.
The cotton quilt was warm and soft, exuding the scent of sun-dried fabric.
She inhaled deeply.
The scent of sunshine felt like the essence of home.
In her childhood winters, on sunny days, her grandmother would carry the bedding out to the courtyard for sunbathing. At night, the entire quilt would be infused with the scent of sunshine.
This familiar aroma gradually dispelled the unease in her heart.
Once again, she found herself living in an unfamiliar environment.
This time, she had practically begged her way into staying here.
Outside the window, a light rain began to fall again.
The pitter-patter of rain was rhythmic and should have been sleep-inducing, but Lu Yinxi couldn’t find a wink of sleep. After tossing and turning for a long time, she sat up, leaning against the headboard, listening to the rain and recalling everything that had happened tonight.
She remembered Jian Qing’s personality and demeanor, a posture she knew all too well.
She recalled Jian Qing’s bare back, with shoulder blades like butterfly wings, flowing curves, and skin like congealed cream. On it was tattooed a flower she knew intimately. She had once kissed that flower in the ambiguous night.
The personality, appearance, and characteristics gave her a feeling identical to the person in her dreams.
Could she really confirm it was the same person?
Lu Yinxi reached out to touch the teardrop mole at the corner of her eye.
In that virtual world, her avatar had the same teardrop mole at the corner of its eye.
It seemed to prove nothing.
It only showed that this Jian Qing in reality also had the experience of foreign aid and being hit by shrapnel.
Was there any other way to further confirm that she was indeed her beloved?
In the master bedroom, just a wall away, Jian Qing was also awake.
She was accustomed to sleeping with the lights on. The bedroom was brightly lit, and on the bedside table lay a sharp dagger.
She sat leaning against the headboard, holding a piece of paper in her hand, gazing at the pitch-black night outside the window, lost in thought.
The paper had only three characters written on it—
Lu Yinxi.
That day, after abandoning thoughts of ending her life, she had written down this name with her own hand. Every time she glanced at it afterwards, her heart would inexplicably flutter, yet she could never recall the motivation behind writing it.
Jian Qing shifted her gaze from the window, looking down at the name. She closed her eyes and silently mouthed the name. Gradually, a face emerged in her mind.
It wasn’t entirely like the gentle and beautiful face of the person next door. It seemed somewhat younger, more naive.
As she tried to think further, the face became blurry, like frosted glass covered in a layer of mist, indistinct and unclear.
Jian Qing opened her eyes and rubbed her head, aching from lack of sleep. She let out an almost inaudible sigh.
Her heart felt utterly empty; she seemed to have forgotten something very important.
Emotions surged: palpitations, stagnation, bitterness, sorrow, bewilderment…
Working in clinical settings, she had seen countless joys and sorrows. Her emotional threshold had become very high, and it had been a long time since she’d experienced such complex feelings.
When did her emotions become sensitive again?
—”Being sensitive and attentive to detail has its advantages. With rich emotions, you can have a wonderful emotional experience just by looking at a tree, a flower, a leaf, or reading a passage.”
—”Here’s a ginkgo leaf for you, Teacher Jian. Cheer up, experience various emotions more. Don’t always live so repressed. How about I recite some tongue twisters for you?”
Two fragments of dialogue surfaced from her mind.
Who had said these to her? When?
Jian Qing routinely woke up at six every morning, left for the hospital at 7:30, and took a twenty-minute lunch break at noon.
Lu Yinxi, familiar with her schedule, woke up ten minutes earlier to go to the kitchen and cook oatmeal and toast sandwiches.
The arrangement of kitchen items matched that of the virtual world, allowing her to work without fumbling, effortlessly.
When Jian Qing finished washing up and changing clothes, she came out to see Lu Yinxi busy in the kitchen, leaving her somewhat dazed.
Had she brought home a tianluo girl (田螺姑娘 – a reference to a Chinese folktale about a magical helper)?
“You’re up?” Lu Yinxi placed the cooked oatmeal on the dining table, breaking into a smile. “To express my gratitude for last night, I’ve prepared breakfast for you this morning. You don’t mind if I join you, do you?”
Jian Qing didn’t speak, but expressed herself through action—pulling out the chair opposite her, inviting her to sit.
Lu Yinxi was left-handed, habitually using her left hand to eat.
Jian Qing observed Lu Yinxi’s movements without any surprise.
It was as if this knowledge had always existed, though she wasn’t sure where it came from.
She barely felt any astonishment.
A popular celebrity she’d only seen on TV was suddenly in her home, sleeping next door, sharing breakfast with her.
The absurd and somewhat unreal scene felt normal to her, as if it was meant to be this way.
The two of them were supposed to live together, sharing weal and woe (相濡以沫 – a four-character idiom meaning to stick together through thick and thin), spending their days and nights together.
“I’m off to work, you…” Jian Qing picked up her bag, ready to leave.
Lu Yinxi hurriedly followed: “I’m heading out too. Thank you for taking care of me.”
Jian Qing glanced at her earlobe without saying a word.
Lu Yinxi tilted her head: “What’s wrong?”
Jian Qing shook her head and said nonchalantly: “Nothing, let’s go.”
Her earrings were missing.
For some inexplicable reason, Jian Qing didn’t want to remind her.
Lu Yinxi made a sound of acknowledgment, put on her face mask, took an umbrella, and followed Jian Qing out the door.
The umbrella belonged to Jian Qing.
Jian Qing had a cleanliness obsession, and wouldn’t want back clothes she’d lent to others. Fearing Jian Qing might not want the borrowed umbrella back either, Lu Yinxi deliberately left her earrings at her place.
If Jian Qing said she didn’t want the umbrella back, Lu Yinxi would have an excuse to come over again in the evening to retrieve her earrings.
Better yet, if she came later, Jian Qing might worry about her safety and ask her to stay over again.
After leaving the residential complex, Lu Yinxi continued to follow closely behind Jian Qing.
Jian Qing stopped, turned around to look at the person behind her, and raised an eyebrow nonchalantly.
Afraid of being seen as a pervert, Lu Yinxi casually pointed at the shopping mall ahead: “We’re going the same way, that’s all. I’m heading to the mall.”
Jian Qing glanced at the mall, turned back, and continued walking.
Reaching the overpass where they met yesterday, Lu Yinxi scanned the hospital across the street.
It was already crowded with people and bustling with traffic early in the morning.
She stopped, no longer following Jian Qing, and watched as Jian Qing climbed the overpass.
As Jian Qing descended the overpass, she turned around once more.
The space behind her was empty.
Looking up, she saw that a certain someone had vanished into the sea of people, her figure nowhere to be found.
She stood there for a full half minute before turning back to head to work at the hospital.
Lu Yinxi took a taxi to a friend’s house in the suburbs.
Her friend, dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn, watched as Lu Yinxi glided back and forth on the ice rink at her home.
As Lu Yinxi skated up to her, the friend propped up her head and asked, “When did you learn to skate? Last month when I threw a party and invited you to my villa, didn’t you say you couldn’t?”
“Maybe I learned it in a dream,” Lu Yinxi replied after smoothly circling a few times. She stopped, took off her skates, and said, “I’ve got to go now. Thanks for letting me use your rink.”
Her friend grumbled, “Did someone squeeze your noggin (腦門被擠了 – a colloquial expression suggesting someone’s acting strangely)? You come all the way to Shanghai, wake me up at the crack of dawn, skate a few laps on my rink, and then just leave?”
Lu Yinxi laughed, “I’ll treat you to a big meal another day!”
In that virtual world, after she and Jian Qing confirmed their relationship, they would visit the ice rink several times each month.
Her skating skills progressed from knowing nothing to becoming proficient through practice (熟能生巧 – a four-character idiom meaning “practice makes perfect”). Now she could skate backward, accelerate, decelerate, and move with agility.
She had initially wanted to test whether she still remembered the skills learned in the virtual world at the shopping mall’s ice rink. However, firstly, the mall only opened at 9 AM, and secondly, there were too many people there. If recognized, she could easily attract unwanted attention.
So she had no choice but to “wreak havoc” (禍害 – a playful way to describe inconveniencing someone) on her friend by borrowing their home rink for testing.
The test results showed that the skills learned in that world remained effective in this one.
During morning rounds, a TV in the hospital room was playing a youth idol drama.
An elderly patient in the bed was watching with great interest.
Jian Qing glanced at it.
On the TV screen, the male lead crouched down to tie the female lead’s shoelaces, looking up at her with a smile as he did so…
Jian Qing inwardly mocked: Doesn’t she have hands? Does falling in love mean losing basic life skills?
The next moment, the camera angle changed, and Lu Yinxi’s pure and captivating face appeared on the screen.
Jian Qing stared at the screen for a while before looking away.
Come to think of it, helping to tie shoelaces might not be so bad after all…
In the afternoon, near the start of her shift, Jian Qing went to the demonstration room to get some materials.
Usually, there would be some students in the demonstration room. After resting, a few classmates would get together to “play black” (開黑 – internet slang for team up in online games) and game.
As Jian Qing walked in, the students proactively greeted her, nervously putting down their phones.
“It’s not work hours yet, carry on with your game. I’m just here to grab something and leave,” Jian Qing gestured for them not to be nervous, picked up her materials, and turned to leave.
The students resumed playing, chattering among themselves.
“Yao, jump on me, protect me!”
“Protect the ADC! Protect the ADC!” (保射手 – gaming term for protecting the main damage dealer)
Some students had their voice chat on speaker, and the game sound effects clearly reached Jian Qing’s ears.
Jian Qing hardly ever touched games. In the past, she couldn’t understand the strange game sounds coming from students’ phones. Now, hearing phrases like “Bonds vanish without a trace, vines cut with a single slash,” “Gods dream in daylight, the sun rises in the west,” and “What a little deer girl, must be the least adorable child in the world,” she paused, stopped in her tracks, and instinctively looked at the students’ phone screens.
Even without seeing the game characters clearly, hearing these voice lines made her imagine a cute girl who transforms into a little deer when attacked…
Had she, at some point, somewhere, encountered this game and this character before?
The afternoon shift was for research.
Jian Qing took her materials and went to the oncology center’s lab to check on her cultured cells.
People in their department often needed to cultivate cancer cells for experiments and publications. Colleagues from other departments gave their oncology department a nickname: “Gu Wang” (蠱王 – literally “Gu King,” a reference to ancient Chinese parasitic magic).
Their department head was the biggest “Gu Wang,” she was a “little Gu Wang,” and below them was a line of junior colleagues.
The Gu Wang, also serving as vice president, was too busy with administrative affairs. Most of the time, it was the senior colleagues who mentored the newcomers.
When Jian Qing entered the lab, she saw a junior colleague intently reading a manual, his brows furrowed.
Thinking he had encountered a difficult problem, she went over to look. To her surprise, it was a manual and probability calculation formula for some kind of claw machine.
“Are the experimental data out yet?” she asked her junior colleague.
The colleague, caught touching fish (摸魚 – a slang term for slacking at work), was startled and quickly hid the claw machine manual: “Senior, when did you come in?”
Jian Qing lightly tapped her fingertips on the desk and said coolly, “Don’t let playthings lead you astray. If you don’t buckle down, you might have to extend your studies.”
“Ah, yes!” The junior colleague scratched his head, “I’ve been busy lately and haven’t had much time to spend with my girlfriend. She likes claw machines, so I thought I’d learn about them to play with her when we have a break.”
Jian Qing made a sound of acknowledgment and stopped lecturing him, turning to check on her cultured lung cancer cells.
What’s so interesting about claw machines? It’s better to cultivate small cells.
Their team cultured lung cancer cells, liver cancer cells, breast cancer cells… about a hundred million cells in total.
These cells were extremely delicate, surviving only at suitable temperatures. They needed regular feeding to avoid starvation or malnutrition, and frequent cleaning of apoptotic cells, just like taking care of a small pet that needs regular baths.
Jian Qing stayed in the lab until 9 PM before leaving.
While working or experimenting, she could focus single-mindedly, but once off work, a blank space appeared in her mind.
A vague sense of unease (患得患失 – an idiom expressing anxiety over gain and loss) lingered in her heart, impossible to fill no matter what she did.
As she reached the entrance of the residential complex, suddenly someone darted out from the security room—
“Teacher Jian, good evening. I accidentally left my earrings at your place and wanted to go back to retrieve them.”
Lu Yinxi removed her mask, breathing on her hands. Her nose tip was red from the cold. Upon seeing Jian Qing, a sweet and warm smile blossomed on her lips.
Without thinking, Jian Qing lowered her head, instinctively moving to take off her gloves to give to Lu Yinxi.
As the gloves slipped to her fingertips, she realized how strange this action was.
She looked up at Lu Yinxi and asked, “How long have you been waiting?”
Lu Yinxi’s lips still curved in a smile: “Not long. I just came from a friend’s house and realized I’d lost my earrings.”
In truth, she’d been waiting for Jian Qing to finish work since dusk.
During the day, she had sat in a café handling some work matters. At 5 PM, she set her work aside and rushed to stake out near the residential complex, waiting for Jian Qing to return from work, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.
Although they were in the same city, whenever Jian Qing wasn’t by her side, she missed her infinitely.
Even if she could see her for just a moment, it would be enough.
She hadn’t expected Jian Qing to work overtime again. After wandering outside for hours, she finally couldn’t bear the severe cold and ran into the security room, cozying up to the security uncle to enjoy the warmth from the heater.
Jian Qing unwrapped her scarf and looped it around Lu Yinxi’s neck: “You’re lying again.”
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